


(So now I'm) Holding onto you

by Atalto



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Based on some art, Florist AU, How do you write Natasha holy shit, M/M, Multi, Steve Rogers Has Issues, Steve Rogers Needs a Hug, Tony Stark Has A Heart, first fic so please fill me with constructive criticism, florist!steve, past Steve/Bucky - Freeform, tumblr prompt fill
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-27
Updated: 2016-11-24
Packaged: 2018-08-11 09:46:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7886302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Atalto/pseuds/Atalto
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"The clerk. Holy shit, he was-" Tony stumbled over his words for a second. "He was like a fricken' Adonis, y'a know? Six foot tall, and - now I'm not being creepy - I swear I could count every muscle under his shirt"<br/>Pepper mentally face palmed. "Please tell me you didn't embarrass yourself completely..."<br/>Silence.<br/>"I may or may not have attempted to flirt the entire time and then told him to call me when I gave him my card."</p><p>She was definitely buying that dress in the morning.</p><p>(Somehow evolved into a florist AU)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

18:47

The flat was tiny.  
Steve had lived in many flats of many different colours throughout his lifetime, and he was pretty sure this one was the smallest, but definitely not the worst.  
_After all, he had lived in barracks of bland hues on the Afghanistan front lines for the past 7 years. In comparison this flat was heaven._  
Today was his first day on his own, the first since he's signed up for the army, and Steve had already discovered it was too quiet; there wasn't the sound of other men joking around or telling tales of home, no gunshots splitting the distance, no Bucky laughing with him-

_Steve had to remind himself that he was never going to see Bucky again-_

The record player in the corner cracked, a sharp pop echoing around the flat that dragged him out of his thoughts. It was the first thing he bought after returning from the front lines - Bucky always called him a hipster - and the quiet 40's big band tunes were nice backgrounds to quiet evenings, painting brickwork brown into soft sepia.

In these weeks, Steve slipped into a routine of grey-blue, days blurring into each other with only the occasional therapist meetings to punctuate the week. With no family to return to, and only a few friends that were in the area, life revolved around work at _Shield_ , a local florist that his artistic eye and love of colours had landed him a full time job at.  
It was lonely, but the whirrs of the air conditioning sounded better than the hum of an army base, and hey, Steve decided, putting together bouquets for the Brooklyn hipster audience was surely better than being shot at.

~~~~~~~~~

"Hey Steve, are you working the late shift tonight? 'Cause I'm on stock watch and if I have to go another 5 hours with no one but one-eye McFuckface to talk to I'm gonna go insa-a-ane!" Clint's yawns broke the silence of the flowers, creating a drowsiness that settled on the entire shop.

Today was a slow day for weekend business. It was already three in the afternoon; by now they would have usually had several love-stricken students, some high-end interior designers, and at least one clint-titled 'anther-fucker' (slightly crazy people who wander in, madly talk to whoever is on the shop floor about the flowers and wander out half an hour later without buying anything.)

But today they had only had a tired-looking collage student who, from the sounds of it, forgotten about her girlfriends date night and was one argument away from sleeping on the couch, and a crazy cat lady who needed some geraniums to match her newest calico's collar. Boredom was starting to settle in, if Clint's cat-like behaviour was anything to go by, and the mere thought of staying there until midnight that night was daunting.

Steve hummed his agreement, tired amusement colouring his tone. "Thankfully for you, I am-" he turned on the ball of feet "you should also be thankful I'm not going to tell Fury of your exact thoughts on him, or I doubt he'll let you take a break for a week."

Turning swiftly around again to rearrange the tulips, he managed to ignore the glare from Clint; he  always was Steve's favourite to work with on slow days.

The hours slowly clicked by, sun finally setting on the New York skyline and casting long shadows down the shop walls before finally sinking below the horizon. It was now eleven at night and the thought of finally closing up the shop was an idea that still seemed out of reach.  
"Have you finished watering the sunflowers out back?"  
"For the millionth fucking time, Steve, yes I have," Clint groaned and sprawled over the counter "now shut up and let a man get some sleep."  
Sighing, Steve followed, leaning on the counter and resting his head in his hands. He really needed to find some insomnia cures.

_Ding!_

That woke Steve up; it took all of a second for him to look alert, as opposed to Clint who remained dead to the world for a further ten minutes. Standing in the doorway was another man, looking flustered and incredibly pissed off. A suit that looked like it would have been perfect was crumpled and coffee-stained, and his tie was hanging loosely round his neck.  
Steve barely hand time to register the customer before he shut the door with a crash and strode across the room to the counter, stopping only millimetres away from hitting into the marble top. As Steve looked on, shocked, he pulled out a wallet and slammed a pile of bills on a table.  
"I know it's dreadfully late," he said, almost sarcastic "but I need to buy a bouquet that says 'fuck you' in the most subtle way possible. Now."

Steve burst out laughing.

"Now I know it sounds stupid, but Justin Hammer, I'm sure you'll understand, is a complete and utter dick, but I can't exactly say that to his face in front of the entire Stark expo, can I?" The man grumbled - obviously laughter wasn't the reaction he wanted - and fixed his heavy sunglasses on his face despite the fact it was completely dark outside.

Once Steve had collected himself, he set to work on the man's order. "I'm guessing you're talking about flower language?"  
"No, I wanted a bouquet perfectly arranged like a middle finger." The man flashed a grin. Sarcasm.

Obviously this customer would have to be taken with a grain of salt. "Well, you'd need to start with orange lilies, for hatred. Then you'd want to add meadowsweet - they're for uselessness- and maybe some foxgloves? They're for insincerity, but we'd have to order some in specially..."

~~~~~~~~~

"You sure do know your flowers, don't you?"  
Half an hour later and they had finally finished discussing the details of the bouquet, from the quantity of flowers to length of the stalks in millimetres. Over the course of their talk, the man had lightened up, laughter splitting his cheeks occasionally whenever Steve struggled to keep his eyes open, and Steve was almost sure he was being flirted with.  
"Do you have a contact number I can call when it's done?" Steve enquired; standard procedure, but the man quirked his lips and handed over a business card.  
"Call me!" He called over his shoulder has he walked out the door and into a sleek black car that was parked outside.  
And for a few quiet moments, Steve was rendered speechless.

That was, until Clint decided to alert Steve that he had be listening in on the whole conversation.  
"Had fun with Mr suit-and-tie? It sure sounded like you did." He snickered and relaxed his head into his hands again.  
"No, he- Wait, I was just-"  
The shit-eating grin hadn't left Clint's face. "Whatever you say Cap, whatever you say." He stood up and tucked the stool under the counter. "Now help me pack this place up, it's not gonna' close itself."

Before moving from his spot, Steve looked down to the card in his hands:

_Tony Stark_   
_Stark International Industries_   
_Anthony.Stark@starkindustries.org_

Holy shit.

~~~~~~  
"Pepper help me, I've fucked up. Big time"  
"Oh god Tony, what could you have possibly done in a flower shop?" Pepper sighed and sunk into her seat; Tony couldn't go anywhere these days without something going wrong.  
"The clerk. Holy shit, he was-" Tony stumbled over his words for a second. "He was like a fricken' Adonis, y'a know? Six foot tall, and - now I'm not being creepy - I swear I could count every muscle under his shirt"  
Pepper mentally face palmed. "Please tell me you didn't embarrass yourself completely..."  
Silence.  
"I may or may not have attempted to flirt the entire time and then told him to call me when I gave him my card."

She was definitely buying that dress in the morning.


	2. 2

_01:32_

Steve was lay out on the roof under his bedroom window, gazing up into the sky as if it held answers to questions unasked. He still couldn't sleep. The events of tonight were still playing on his mind, his brain repeating the most regrettable parts of the event over and over. Was he too blunt? Was he rude to Stark? Oh god, what if he told all his upper class friends about the blushing failed soldier at a shitty little Brooklyn florist?  
They'd be run out of business, Steve would be out of a job, he'd be-

He sat up. There was no way on earth he'd ever sleep in this state.  
Before he went to war, he'd go for a walk if he couldn't sleep - maybe it would work again now.

It was a mild night out, but the wind was biting, whistling through the trees like a vengeful ghost. In an attempt to keep out the chill, Steve turned his coat collar up and ducked his head, focusing on the greying pavement.

Within seconds, he was flat on his back. Steve swore loudly.

"Maybe you should look where you're going next time?" A chuckle registered from above him, and a hand was extended into his view.  
Steve gladly accepted it and was pulled to his feet, tired muscles straining against his weight. He ended up face to face with another man, straight-backed and smiling in amusement. Another hand was offered, but this time in introduction rather than aid.

"James Rhodes." He said "Sorry about walking into you there"  
Steve chuckled under his breath. "The fault was all mine, don't worry." He shook Rhodes' hand. "Steve Rogers"

At that moment Rhodes' face morphed completely into one of awe. "Captain Steve Rogers? From the 107th?" He stepped back. "It's an honour to meet you."  
Steve cringed inwardly; he forgot just how 'heroic' the event was, and just how many people knew about it. "Not any more. Leave of honour, I live here now, work at a florist downtown."  
"I'm back on temporary leave, my friends are getting married and somehow the army let me back for it"

So Rhodes was a military man himself; it explained the disciplined stance and late night walking.

Rhodes coughed slightly. "I ought to be off, my friend just urgently called me." He chuckled again, "to be honest, I think he wants a drinking buddy."

"Well, don't let me keep you" Steve waved his hand in dismissal.

And the two men walked their separate ways.

~~~~~~~~

"Jesus Tones, you'll never guess who I met on the way here."  
Tony grinned into his tumbler; it wasn't often Rhodey was impressed by people. "Hit me baby."  
A beat  
"Captain Rogers"

Another beat. Tony remained indifferent.  
"Y'a know, war hero? Singular survivor of heavy airstrike on a town whilst his squadron were trying to save a school?"   He exclaimed, sounding more and more shocked that Tony hadn't heard of this man as he went along.  
Rhodey sighed and looked into his half-empty tumbler. "It wasn't pretty. His entire squad got either killed or later died of their injuries. By some miracle they were able to save him." He paused, heavy silence settling into the space around them. "They say his scarring was awful, that they'd never seen so much blood on a man."  
"So what's he doing here?"  
"Trying to live a civvie life apparently, said he was working at a florist in Brooklyn"  
Something about this clicked in Tony's brain. "Is this Steve Rogers tall, blonde and muscular per chance?"  
A laugh. "Oh yeah, they called him Captain America for a reason. Poor bastard somehow ended up staying in the building next to me."

Christ, Tony was so screwed

~~~~~~~~~~~  
_It was a hot day in the desert that day. Rays of sun were smashing down on the small town, causing the stones to soften and the dust to shimmer. Their packs were heavy on backs, but the group were moving as quickly and stealthily as possible; they couldn't afford to be caught._

Steve woke up with a start. 08:33, the clock read, red numbers burning themselves momentarily into his retinas. His shift started soon and-

 _It was 08:33 when the bombs hit_.

Shaking his head, Steve slowly swung his legs off the bed, ignoring the twinge of pain.  
Today was going be another long day

~~~~~~~~~~

He was welcomed by shouting.

"Clint, you can't just run around and do whatever the fuck you want just because you're fucking the co-owner!"  
"Well, I'd like to think that fucking him gave me some privileges!"  
Steve mentally face-palmed; the other person must have been Natasha Romanov, a freelance accountant who Fury found, according to rumour, hacking high-end businesses for cash.  
"How did you hear about this anyway?" Clint's voice. Now this, Steve would like to hear.

Natasha snorted in response. "You stole $60 worth of flowers in order to make a bouquet for him. Phil noticed the paper you used as the paper from here and checked the balances." She clicked her tongue. "Rookie mistake, _Hawkeye_."

The black door suddenly swung open and the red-haired woman walked out leisurely, leaving Clint in her wake. Locking eyes with Steve, she pointed over her shoulder and said, "don't let him live this down for a while, please?"

Steve chucked. "With ease."

The foxgloves had arrived; time to get to work on Mr Stark's bouquet.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

4 hours later, the bouquet was done - it was huge, crammed with flowers of all lengths and thicknesses - and a slightly nervous e-mail had been sent to the address on the business card. All that was left to do now was wait.

~~~~~~~~~

 _Tap, tap, tap, tap, tap._  
Tony cursed under his breath, finally laying the pen down and sitting up to look at his laptop screen again.  
Nothing had changed, until-  
_Ding!_

"Pep, Pep, holy shit-" he fumbled to sit up straight in his seat, opening up his emails to stare at the unopened message. "It's the florist dude, he's replied."  
Pepper, having just run into his office in a panicked flurry, leaned against a wall. "Tony, why can't you just reply?"

"Because he's hot, and a genuinely nice person, not to mention a war hero, and I'm the human embodiment of a fucking-"  
"Tony." Pepper sighed, steely look silencing his babble, "you'll be fine, go and pick up your flowers and ask him for coffee."  
She smiled, Tony starting to relax in his seat. "If that fails, you can forget all about him and never go near Brooklyn again."

Nodding mutely, Tony stood up, retrieved his jacket from the back of the chair and began to make his way to the florist.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the great response! I only think one or two more chapters, I shouldn't think too many more.  
> EDIT: just a quick note to say updates might be a bit slower do to the start of school. Thank you for your patience, I will finish this before I start anything else!  
> EDIT 2 (26/9/16): I am writing I promise! School is just getting a lil stressful so I don't have much time to write :( thank you for waiting, it should be up soon


	3. 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait for a short chapter! This year is exam year for me, and the stress is much more than I thought it would be. Thank you for your patience!

_13:24_

Steve felt like he had been waiting for ages before Tony finally opened the florist door, but the wait did nothing to quell his anxiety. It seemed like hours before the sleek black car drew up outside the shop window, and the dingle of the bell pulled Steve out of his thoughts. It was strange, how excited he was to see someone who he'd met only once in his life.

_My life is turning into a cheesy mromance novel_ was somehow what his mind produced on the matter, but it was forced out of quips and one-liners as Mr Stark approached the counter. Instead, it was blank, with undertones of annoyance for the wait.

"Sorry for the hold-up," Mr Stark smiled and whipped off his sunglasses, "traffic over the river was a nightmare and JARVIS, bless his artificial soul, can only do so much."

Keeping a chuckle under his breath, Steve led him over to the counter and fished the bouquet out from under the counter. He started, but was quickly interrupted.

"You should come to the expo tomorrow, you know." Steve stopped, and stared at the man confused.

"Sorry, did you just invite me to your big performance?" That was greeted with a laugh.

"My big performance? I'm opening the biggest science expo in the ol' US of A, figured you might want to see Hammers face when I present him with your art." He stalled for a moment, almost registering what he just said. "I mean, I can get you tickets to the botany section if you want, and get you into the party afterwards, and then-"

"Sure." Staring, Mr Stark stopped talking, instead glaring at the flowers as if they could suddenly change the atmosphere completely. "But only if you pay me the $50 you owe for the flowers, and promise me you'll put them in some water rather than letting them wilt."

Now that has changed the mood, and Steve felt rather light-headed at what he had just agreed to - _you're too brash Stevie, chill the fuck out_ the Bucky in his head chided.

"You raise a hard bargain Rogers, but I'll take it." The slap of notes on the counter echoed slightly around the small shop floor, and once they were carefully sorted into the cash register, Mr Stark picked up the flowers.

"I'll see you tomorrow then, Mr Stark?" Steve questioned as he neared the door, worry beginning to well in the back of his mind. Mr Stark replied with that million-dollar grin again, and slipped the sunglasses over his eyes again.

"Be there or be square!" The bell jingled as the door opened.

"And, it's Tony, please."

With that, he was gone, and the dulled roar of an engine, guttural and deep, blurred into the audio background of the city.

Steve collapsed into the office chair, arms falling limp by his side and feet idly spinning him on the spot. Taking a moment to register what had just happened was tiring, and he stopped to contemplate what was going to happen tomorrow.

Steve, the broken soldier who could hardly handle being in a slightly crowded florist, was going to be attending the biggest science fair in America, if not the world, and then party with philanthropists, businessmen and general important people after somehow making friends with New York's most influential engineer.

When he put it like that, it just didn't make sense.

The rest of the day transgressed as normal, Clint rolling in two hours later, tired and with a killer of a hickey showing over the turtleneck sweater.

It was only after the door was locked and Steve unlocked his flat door that he questioned how Tony knew his name in the first place.

~~~~~~~~~~

As JARVIS opened the door to the penthouse, Tony's brain whirred to a halt; he'd been awake for pushing 48 hours now, and the sleep debt was starting to get to him.

Autopilot had taken over, and once he placed the flowers in a large case of water, he collapsed onto one of the huge plush sofas. The pillows he had landed on were soft and just in the right position, maybe if he just closed his eyes he could-

"Please tell me you've got everything done before you sleep." Tony's eyes flew open and the sofa dipped by his feet and another voice began to register in his ears.

"Wha'? Pepper pot, love of my life, don't you have CEO-y things to be doing?"

"Just making sure you're prepared for tomorrow." Papers rustled on her lap as she flicked through a large folder. "Have you written your speech?"

Tony waved his hand lazily in the air, and a softly glowing hologram appeared in the air.

"I can confirm for you Miss Potts, that sir has in fact completed his opening speech, and emailed it to the producers at 9:47 this morning." JARVIS stated as Pepper visibly relaxed.

"At least someone's looking after you." She said, smiling, and ruffled Tony's hair lightly. He groaned in response.

"Steve's coming to the expo tomorrow." He remembered as Pepper began to stand.

Sighing, Pepper questioned, "Is that the guy from the flower shop?"

"The very same. I asked him today"

She crouched down next to him, a slightly sad look on her face. "I hope you have a good day with him," she stood up and added, "I hope this doesn't back fire on you."

Thoughtful silence settled across the room as Tony began to doze on the couch and Pepper lightly stroked his hair until she was sure he was asleep. Only once his soft snores filled the penthouse was it that she stood up and made her way over to the elevator.

"JARVIS, lights to 10% please, and darken the windows."

She stopped.

"And JARVIS? Make sure tomorrow goes smoothly for him, he deserves for this to work."

"Of course Miss Potts."


	4. 4

_17:10_

The expo started at 18:00, and Steve was still fiddling with the red tie lopsidedly thrown around his neck.

The more he tried to tie it, the more annoying twisted it got, the more annoyed he became, the more- It was a vicious circle.

_You're no good at tying these things, Bucky says. He'd always stand at the  back of the room and laugh at Steve's nimble fingers pulling accidental knots around his neck_.

Over, under, pull it up. Then thread it through the loop.

I _n the end, Steve would almost always be close to tears, and Bucky would take over. He'd take the tie in his hands and make a perfect knot in seconds whilst making friendly jabs._

_It was almost like being in love_.

"Having trouble there, soldier?"

A smooth voice called from the doorway. Surprised, Steve turned on the ball of his foot to see Natasha leaning against the doorframe, knowing smirk on her mouth.

"Who would've thought, Steve Rogers can't tie a tie." She laughed slightly under her breath as he let the material fall in defeat on his shoulders. Within seconds, she strode over and whipped the tie from around his neck. Almost as soon as the tie was set down she was over again, nimble fingers rolling up sleeves and straightening creases.

"This thing isn't as formal as you think you know," she said calmingly, slight smile on her face. "The only thing different to the general public is that you're going to the after-party."

Steve scoffed.

"I'm being serious." Natasha pulled a jacket out of the closet and settled it over his shoulders. "There will be people there far less dressed than you." She smirked at Steve's blush and began towards the door again.

"Now go and get him, Tiger."

And as she walked away, talking loudly about taxis and opening times, Steve was left wondering about Natasha's parting words.

She truly was an enigma among men.

~~~~~~~~~

"Mr Stark, you have fifteen minutes until the opening act!"

As much as Tony loved seeing the look in young people's faces when he hired them as first-time backstage managers, he really regretted hiring this one.

His face was beginning to set into his palm again. He'd already had his makeup redone twice, with two subsequent rants - loving rants but rants nonetheless - from Pepper.

To be completely honest, he was starting to go stir-crazy; he'd been here for four hours already and now just wanted to get the speech out of the way.

The flowers sat ominously in the corner of the room.

"Sir, if it would calm you down somewhat, Captain Rogers has been seen on security cameras entering the compound."

Tony had forgot he had installed JARVIS in this building.

Jumping to his feet, he was now pacing, JARVIS' words having the seemingly opposite effect. What if he messed up on stage? Steve would see him as a fool. If Hammer understood the flowers? Steve would get blamed. If Tony saw him, he'd end up-

"Mr Stark, you're needed in the wings now!"

It was showtime, and the bastard didn't even bother to knock.

~~~~~~~~~~~

It was a bit like being in a cattle pen, Steve decided as he was thrown from side to side in the sea of teenagers jumping to the beat of some up-and-coming band that were opening the expo. Nat was a solid weight at his side and Clint was swaying just in front, arm wrapped around Phil's waist, but this did nothing to quell the fear that lurked in his chest.

He felt an elbow in his side. "Stop looking so worried. Stark will give his speech, give Hammer the bouquet, then I'll take you and lover boy over there-" Nat gave a less than subtle gesture towards Clint "-to party with the best of them." She was shouting slightly to be heard above the guitars and bass, but nothing she said was really registering in his mind.

"Nothing major then." Steve said noncommittally. In the corner of his eye, he could see Nat's worried smile before she turned back to the band.

Thankfully, the cadence was perfect and the final chords of the song were played to a screaming audience, and the stage cut to black.

It was overpowering in so many ways.

~~~~~~~

Right, left, right, left.

Walk to centre stage.

Stop.

Smile.

Wait for rapturous applause from the audience to stop.

Do the fucking speech.

In hindsight, he should have added a lot more detail.

Despite this, Tony was still stood on a stage in front of twenty five thousand people, talking about how wonderful his father was and how technology is the most important thing about today.

He hoped his bitterness wasn't apparent.

So despite the nerves, the panic, the dread that clouded his mind the moment his tongue stumbled on a word, Tony was doing one of this things he did best. He talked about technology: phones: computers: fast cars. He played with some holograms, basked in the oohs and aaahs of the audience when he did something particularly clever. He stood back and let them watch some godforsaken old promo video of his dad from the seventies, and plastered that plastic smile to his face when the cameras came his way.

Secretly, he couldn't help thinking the whole thing was somewhat fake.

As time went one, people were welcomed on stage, hands were shook and prop certificates were passed around. Hammer's flowers were brought on by a lovely assistant; blond, tall and blue eyed.

"Y'know, you almost look like the guy who made this!"

A whoop from a couple near the front of the audience told him that was a mistake.

_Stick to the script Stark, stick to the fucking script_.

On the plus side, however, one of Hammer's lackeys clearly got the bouquet joke, and nearly had to be excused off stage because of her laughter. Hammer himself didn't get the joke, but it was almost worth it to see his anger afterwards at the laughing lackey and the shock horror afterwards once she explained it to him.

Well, what could Tony say. The dick had it coming.

The rest of the show was surprisingly uneventful, and he walked off stage to cheers of support and delight.

Now he just had the after party to deal with; schmooze some woman, talk up some businessmen, make a couple of deals. Come face to face with Steve and do something he might regret?

Tony decisive he'd rather not think about it.

~~~~~~~~

"Well, that wasn't too bad, was it?" Nat questioned as they walked down the exit from the arena. Steve just nodded in a kind of mute delight; his ears were still ringing from the volume of it, but the worry in his chest had been replaced with a kind of glowing pride for Tony.

"Still feeling up for the party?" This time, the answer wasn't quite as instantaneous, but a nod nonetheless.

They came onto the topic of the bouquet fairly quickly, Nat telling Steve about Dr Laywater and how she should have known a leading botanist would know flower language. Yet, she was still talking gently - soothing, but scarily out of character.

"I'll be alright in there, you know that? Stark's not going to murder me the moment he sees me."

"I know that. I'm worried that he won't."

Steve barely had time to think before passes were flashed at security guards and he was pushed head first down a smokey corridor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally another chapter! I feel like I haven't updated in ages, so apologies for that. Also I feel like I'm writing Natasha all wrong, so any advice on that would be appreciated. 
> 
> Thanks for reading!!

**Author's Note:**

> Anything to say? Hit me up at my tumblr ~ Atalto.tumblr.com


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